Cop by Her Side

She didn’t know that Drew had implied Melissa had felt extreme reluctance to take her daughter along. Because she’d been cranky and wanted some peace and quiet? Or because she’d never intended to run the errand that was her ostensible reason for leaving the house?

Or—and this was the big or in Clay’s book—was the whole story fiction? Melissa Wilson’s supposed trip to Rite Aid, the possibility she and her husband had squabbled about whether she was going to take Brianna, the later phone call... It all came from the same man.

Not the phone call; Clay had verified that there was a call lasting just under one minute from Melissa’s phone to Drew’s. But what was said, who’d actually dialed the call, that was all in question as far as Clay was concerned.

His least favorite scenario involved the pedophile who got lucky and happened on a really pretty little girl trying to flag down a passing motorist.

But he had some others that would keep him awake, too, and they involved Drew Wilson.

What if he and his wife had done more than squabble? What if they’d had a nasty fight? If she fled, he might have pursued and been responsible for running her off the road. He could have Brianna stashed somewhere so she couldn’t tell what had really happened. He might figure he could brainwash her, then have her miraculously restored to him.

Or what if he was sexually molesting his eldest daughter, and he really couldn’t afford it if either she or his wife talked?

Jesus. What if he’d killed his daughter and then chased down his wife to shut her mouth? So far, Clay hadn’t found a witness to confirm anything beyond the fact that Drew had dropped his younger daughter off at the neighbor’s without saying anything but that he thought maybe his wife’s car had broken down and he needed to go check on her. His frantic appearance at the police station could be a con job.

And Clay didn’t like being conned.

He was honest enough with himself to admit that he also didn’t like the idea that Jane had a closer relationship with her brother-in-law than she did with her sister.

Once he finished talking to Jane, he was going to have a chat with the nurses in ICU and make sure they kept at least half an eye on Melissa Wilson and her so-devoted husband.

“You said you take the girls alone sometimes. I’ll bet you tried to keep Brianna from feeling too sad this summer.”

“I’ve tried to do something fun with her every week. Sometimes both girls, but Alexis is happier at the day camp than Bree is this year. I know Drew lets her stay home some days even when he takes Alexis.”

A father should want to spend individual time with his kids. Unfortunately, in his job, Clay had seen too many cases where a father liked being alone with one of his kids for a sick reason.

“I’ve mostly been working Tuesday through Saturday,” Jane continued. “So I’ve devoted a lot of Mondays this summer to the girls. Sometimes they spend Sunday at my place. In July I took just Bree over to that really cool water park in McMinnville.”

He decided he had to be direct. “Does she talk to you? Would she tell you if something was weighing on her?”

Jane’s uncomprehending stare slowly altered to one of outraged understanding. “You’re suggesting that...that Drew or Lissa was abusing her?”

“I’m asking if the possibility exists.”

“No!”

He held her gaze with a steady one of his own. “Jane, you’re not that naive. I know this is your family. Nobody ever wants to think a person she loves could do something like that. But it happens. In fact, it’s a hell of a lot more common than most people have any idea.”

She visibly choked on it, but she had been a cop too long to deny what he said was the truth. “No,” she repeated, but more moderately. “I really don’t think so. The girls are both cheerful and affectionate and—” Jane scowled. “If I could imagine it with either of their parents, it wouldn’t be—” She stopped again, unhappy.

“Your sister,” Clay said slowly.

Her mouth tightened. “Actually, I was going to say Drew. He’s a really nice guy. I think Alexis and Bree are more comfortable with him than they are with Lissa. She’s, I don’t know, uptight and—” something else she didn’t want to say “—self-centered, I guess.”

An unpleasant suspicion had entered Clay’s mind as she talked. Clay remembered the way Drew’s face and tone had softened when the subject of Jane came up. Now listen to the warmth in her tone. Was there any chance something was going on there? Even the idea enraged him.

But, truth was, he couldn’t think how a flirtation or even an affair between Jane and Drew could have played into today’s events, unless it had been a catalyst for a monumental fight between husband and wife. And then how did that involve the kid?

No.

He didn’t believe it anyway, he discovered. He thought Jane’s sense of integrity was too unbending to allow her to sleep with her sister’s husband.

But he also found he hated almost as much the possibility that she wanted to. That the two of them looked at each other sometimes with the knowledge between them that they might have been happy together.

And yeah, what grated maybe most of all was the way she’d described Drew. He was a really nice guy—while Clay Renner was scum of the earth.

Like acid in his belly, it ate at him knowing he’d given her damn good reason to believe exactly that.

And...maybe she’d be right to believe it. A self-confident man, Clay had taken a serious hit that day. Since she’d walked away, he’d looked hard at a lot of crap he’d grown up taking for granted. What shook him most was discovering how much contempt for women had been embedded in his father’s “traditional” views of male/female roles.

Yeah, well, too little, too late.

He stood abruptly. “I’m going in to see how your sister is doing. Then I want you to switch places with your brother-in-law so I can talk to him.”

By her narrowed eyes, he could tell she thought he really intended to bully poor, nice Drew, which upped his pissed quotient. But by God, he was too good at his job to let personal feelings influence an investigation.

He nodded at Jane, probably nothing too friendly showing on his face, and left her alone there.

* * *

DREW SAT IN the hard plastic chair beside Lissa’s bed in ICU, listening to the hum and beep of monitors and the squeak of shoes as a nurse walked past. Farther away were voices. Somebody else getting bad news? he wondered with a jab of pain.

Sometimes he tilted his head back and stared at the pattern of Lissa’s heart beating in jagged green lines across a monitor. Mostly he gazed at her face, so ominously still and unlike her. He sat on her good side, so he didn’t have to see the horrible swelling and bruising. Not that he could forget doctors had actually drilled into her skull.

He squeezed the lax, cool hand that lay in his. “Liss,” he murmured, “can you hear me? I really need you to open your eyes. You’re scaring me. I can’t believe you of all people—” He broke off with a harsh breath.

Melissa had been a revelation to him when he’d met her, filled with a vitality that made her stand out from everyone else he’d ever met. Enthralled, he hadn’t been able to resist her. He hadn’t wanted to resist her, even though he’d known he was hurting Jane.

The terrible thing was that sometimes he thought he’d been an idiot, that Lissa was all surface and flash, and he should have been able to see beneath it. He’d begun to wonder if she really loved him at all. Lately—

But he didn’t want to think about the suspicions that nibbled at him like mosquitoes raising welts. If only she’d open her eyes, they could talk. She would convince him that she had nothing to do with whatever had happened to Bree, and these doubts churning in his belly would go away. If only he could have Bree back, have Melissa back, he could forgive almost anything.

He leaned toward her, resting his elbows on his knees. “I need you to talk to me. Please, Liss. Please.”

But her face stayed still and sunken, and on a surge of anguish he tried to imagine never seeing her laugh again, or whirl on him in a fury, or light with some new enthusiasm. What if he had to plod on without her?

But on a clench of dread and fear, he knew: if he could somehow, magically, save either his wife or his daughter, but not both, he would have to choose Bree.

“That’s what you’d want, isn’t it?” he whispered.

She didn’t answer, of course.

CHAPTER FOUR

“AUNTIE JANE?” HUDDLED in a tiny ball beneath the covers, Alexis peered out. “Will you...will you stay till I fall asleep? And maybe even lie down with me?”

Jane’s heart squeezed painfully. “Oh, pumpkin. Of course I will.”

She untied her athletic shoes and dropped them on the floor, then turned off the bedside lamp before lying down atop the covers so that her head shared her five-year-old niece’s pillow and she could kiss her on the nose. The little girl wriggled a few times to fit into the curve of Jane’s body. Then she gave a small sniff.

“Auntie Jane, will you find Bree tomorrow?” The question floated, only a wistful thread.

Jane gave her a squeeze. “You know I’ll try, with all my might. But Sergeant Renner is really the one in charge of finding her. The good thing is, I know he’ll try with all his might, too.”

“’Cuz I miss her.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Jane squeezed her eyes shut in hopes of damming the tears and leaned her forehead against her niece’s. “I know,” she said huskily.

“Where’s Daddy? I mean, is he with Mommy?”

“Yeah. He’s with Mommy.”

The silence was so long, Jane began to hope Alexis had fallen asleep. Somehow she doubted it, though; even through the covers, she could feel the tension in the slight body.

“Why won’t Mommy wake up?”

“Mommy had a really bad bump on her head. You remember the time Bree fell off her bike and she had that great big lump that looked like an egg and we had to take her to the hospital?”

Alexis nodded slightly.

“Well, this is a bump way worse than that. Sergeant Renner thinks your mom’s car was going really fast when it went off the road.”

“Mommy always said if she was in a...a accident, this humongous balloon would puff up so nobody was hurt.” She sounded indignant.

“The balloon is called an air bag. And they work really well, except they only puff up in certain kinds of accidents. Like if your mom’s car had hit a tree. But the way the car tilted kept the air bag from puffing up.”

The “oh” was sad. After a minute, “When will Daddy come home?”

“I think he might be here when you get up in the morning. He misses you, pumpkin.”

“Okay.”

Feeling Alexis slowly relax until, finally, her breathing became deep and regular, Jane thought about Drew’s terrible dilemma. Did he stay at Melissa’s side, willing her to open her eyes? Or did he go home to comfort his youngest daughter, so terrified because, in her perception, almost everyone in her family had disappeared?

Jane was only glad she could be here. She’d already decided that if they didn’t find Bree tomorrow, she would pack a bag and come to stay. She’d take days off from work, too, as much as she had to. That way she could offer Alexis some stability and Drew the relief of knowing she was being taken care of. She could take care of him, too. Cook dinners, that kind of thing, even though she wasn’t exactly Susie Homemaker.

Once she was sure Alexis was sleeping soundly, Jane slipped off the bed and out of the room, leaving the door half ajar so she’d be able to hear the little girl if she awakened. The twin bed was way too small for the two of them to share, and Jane’s adrenaline ran too high for her to be sleepy yet anyway.

What she wanted was to be hunting for Bree, but she knew she was lucky that Clay had involved her as much as he had so far. He didn’t have any obligation to. And as much as she hated it, he was right that family members were always the first suspects when an act of violence or an apparent abduction happened. And what had she done but told him, so brilliantly, that she and her sister weren’t getting along very well. If she hadn’t been at work when the accident occurred, he’d have had to consider her; she knew that. Considering that she didn’t like him, she was disconcerted by the sting she felt at the idea that he’d readily suspect her of hurting her own sister, or her niece.

He’d said he didn’t as if the idea was ludicrous, but...she didn’t know whether to believe him.

He’d seemed angry at her when she’d last seen him at the hospital. Was that because she’d been too honest about Lissa, and he’d realized he had discounted her possible involvement too quickly?

I don’t care what he thinks about me as long as he does his job, she thought fiercely. As long as he finds Bree.

But...she knew that wasn’t true. She did care. She could have cared a whole lot, if only he had turned out to be the man she’d believed he was.

That thought felt like grief, heavy in her chest, not so different from her fear for Lissa and Bree and her sadness for Alexis.

Something she so didn’t need.

* * *

IT WAS PROBABLY too late to call Jane. Clay didn’t even know why he wanted to. He’d seen plenty of her today, God knows. But after he’d left the hospital, as the evening and then the night had crawled on, he kept thinking about her. Wondering whether she was still there, or had gone home, or...?

He reached his own place, a log cabin on the outskirts of Little Elk, a town too small even to have a post office. He loved the quiet and the peace here, and had looked forward to showing Jane his home.

Yeah, well, that wasn’t happening.

He parked his Jeep Grand Cherokee in the carport attached to one side of the cabin and got out. The moon was heading toward full now, and the silver illumination cast shadows from the tall pines. He’d never installed a motion-activated light; there was enough wildlife around here that it would have been popping on all the time. As he walked toward the front door, he heard a soft hoot. A welcome home, or a complaint because he’d disturbed the night?

He let himself in, not bothering to turn on the porch light or a light in the main room. Instead he made his way by habit to the kitchen, where he poured himself a glass of milk and downed it in a few swallows, hoping it would soothe the acid in his stomach. Too many cups of coffee today. Had to be that, and not the gut-churning emotions he’d felt every time he looked at Jane or thought of her.

The clock on the stove told him it was 11:19 p.m. Maybe not too late to call? As scared as she was, would Jane really have dropped into a peaceful sleep by now?

Clay didn’t know why he felt such a hunger to talk to her. He didn’t have anything that qualified as real news to share, but...he wanted to hear her voice, to know she was okay.

He was dialing before he could have second thoughts.

Jane answered on the second ring. “Clay?” Her voice rang with anxiety.

“Nothing new,” he told her hastily. “I just, uh, thought I’d check in. I hope I didn’t wake you up.”

“No. Of course not.” She hesitated. “I’m at Lissa’s with Alexis. So Drew could stay at the hospital.”

“He’s planning to stay all night?”

“I don’t know. He shouldn’t. He has to get some rest sometime. But I offered to pick up Alexis and tuck her in. She’d already had dinner with the neighbor.”

“Did you have dinner?” he asked, leaning back against the knotty pine kitchen cabinets.

There was a moment of silence. “I’m not hungry.”

“I know it’s hard when you’re scared, but you should have something.”

“Maybe.”

He sought for something else to say. “Alexis okay?”

“Not really. It was—” She broke off, or maybe her voice had broken. “Um, she wanted to talk about why her mommy hadn’t opened her eyes, and she was hoping I’d promise to bring Bree home tomorrow.”

“She’s five, right?”

“Right. She’s supposed to start kindergarten in...wow, not much over a week.”

“Bad enough at that age having something scary happen to one member of your family. But two...” He shook his head, remembering something he hadn’t thought of in years. His mother had had breast cancer when she was in her forties. Really scary shit, even if he was an adult. Sort of an adult, he amended, doing some mental arithmetic to decide he’d been...nineteen? Twenty? Anyway.

“What are you thinking about?” Jane asked. “You’ve gotten really quiet.”

So he told her. “All they did was remove a lump. They were confident they’d caught it early. But we all watched her like a hawk for years. I don’t even know when I quit getting this sinking feeling every time I saw her and thinking, what if it comes back?”

“Maybe after the magic five years?”

“Maybe.” What did this have to do with anything? He wasn’t sure. But he said, “My dad’s a hard-ass. You know? That’s the only time I can ever remember seeing him emotional. Scared. And gentle with Mom. That’s not his style.”

He’d never actually thought of his parents and the word love connected until that scare. Then he’d known. His father might not be good showing it, but he loved Clay’s mom. It was plain he’d have been lost without her.

Clay had liked his father a little better after that.

His mouth twisted. A little summed it up. Increasingly, he felt distaste for a man he’d once admired. A man who’d loved his sons and always had time for them while he taught them everything he believed a man should be.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t know why I told you all that.”

“Maybe because it came out all right?” Jane suggested. “Your mom is fine?”

Was that why? He’d wanted to remind her that, yes, scary shit did happen and most often everyone came out safe on the other side?

If so—that was dumb as hell. Jane and he were both in a good position to know how often when things went to shit they stayed that way. Faces flashed through his memory, too many to catch one and stop it—the faces of accident victims, battered wives, kids who did something stupid and paid the ultimate penalty. Murder victims.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

What could he say but “You’re welcome.”

“Have you gone home?”

“Just got here.” He kneaded the back of his neck. “With the Amber Alert out there, a bunch of phone calls came in from people who thought they might have seen Bree. You know how it is. We had to follow up on all of them, but nothing panned out.”

She made a sound that might have been an “oh.”

“Didn’t really expect they would,” he continued, “but you never know.”

“No. Maybe tomorrow. I mean, she can’t have just vanished from the face of the earth.”

Thinking of the miles of empty country around Angel Butte, Clay knew she was wrong. A little girl’s body could go undiscovered for a long time. Even forever. But he wasn’t about to say anything like that to Jane. Didn’t have to, he realized; she knew. But she was trying for hope, too, and that was okay.

“You should get some sleep,” he told her gently. “Don’t wait up for your brother-in-law. You know he’ll call if anything changes.”

“You will, too, won’t you?” she said with sudden urgency. “This is really hard, being on the sidelines. I don’t care if you wake me up. If you hear anything. Anything at all.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I swear.”

“Okay.” There was a pause. “I’m glad you called. Thank you, Clay.”

“You’re welcome,” he said again. “Go on. Hit the sack.”

“You, too.”

They said good-night and his phone went dead. Clay checked to be sure he’d put the milk back in the fridge, then flicked off the overhead light and made his way through the dark to the stairs. He thought he might be able to sleep now. Talking to Jane had...settled him. No real reason, but he felt better knowing she was hanging in there. He liked the softness in her voice when she said his name, too.

He hoped she went to bed before Drew came home wanting to weep on her shoulder.

* * *

JANE WOKE TO the sound of voices down the hall. She grabbed the second pillow and slapped it over her head. She wanted desperately to sink back into sleep. An uninterrupted hour or two. That was all she asked.

But of course it was hopeless. The light slipping through the blinds in this guest bedroom told her it was morning. Anyway, once she was really awake, she was awake.

She dragged herself to the bathroom and groaned at the sight of herself in the mirror. Given that she had no change of clothes, without borrowing something from Lissa—and she shuddered at the very thought—there wasn’t a whole lot she could do about her appearance. She did use the girls’ hairbrush—with a sparkly pink handle, no less—to try to restore order to her wild locks. Her mouth felt gummy, but a brief search of the drawers for a spare toothbrush came up empty. She really had to make it home today to pack that bag.

Drew sat slumped at the kitchen table. Alexis had scraped her chair as close to the corner of the table as she could get it. As close to her daddy as she could get.

“Can I have ’nother waffle, Daddy?” she begged in her piercing little voice. “I think I want jam on this one.”

“What? Oh...sure,” he agreed, voice dragging. He started to push his chair back, and she bounced out of hers to follow him. Drew saw Jane then. “Hey. I’m sorry if we made too much noise.”

He was hardly recognizable. His brown eyes were puffy and bloodshot. Deep lines had somehow carved themselves between his nose and mouth and across his forehead. Jane would have sworn he’d aged ten years in the last twenty-four hours. Twenty years.

Of course, she didn’t look so sharp this morning, either.

“I’ll put her waffle in the toaster,” she offered, having seen the box on the counter. Thank goodness Drew hadn’t felt obligated to make some from scratch, not after the night he must have had. “Did you get any sleep at all?” she asked.

He sank heavily back into the chair. “Couple hours. How about you?”

Jane bent down to hug Alexis. “Your daughter had nightmares.” Lots of nightmares. “But we survived, didn’t we, pumpkin?”

“Uh-huh. I didn’t want to be alone last night.” Alexis and Bree had their own bedrooms now, but they’d shared a room until about a year ago. “So finally I went to bed with Auntie Jane.”

Drew gave her a wry smile. “Lucky Auntie Jane.”

“She said she couldn’t sleep, either.” Alexis followed Jane. “I can have jam, right?”

“You bet. Can I have some of those waffles, too?”

The little girl nodded. “But what if they’re all gone?”

“Then we’ll grocery shop today.”

“Or you’ll eat cereal for breakfast tomorrow,” her father said, giving her an admonitory look.

She looked mulish. “I only like waffles.”

While the waffles toasted, Jane asked what the plan was for today.

“I think I’ll take Alexis to her day camp,” he said.

His daughter let out a wail, threw herself from her chair and ran to him. Her arms clamped around his waist and she buried her face in his torso. “No! I don’t want to go. Don’t make me go, Daddy. Please. I want to be with you.”

The look he cast Jane was so hopeless, she felt an anguished pang.

He smoothed his hand over his daughter’s hair, the same brown as his. “I have to go back to the hospital. And Jane has a job.”

“I can go to the hospital, too, can’t I?” Alexis pleaded. “I’ll be good. Really, really, really good.”

The waffles popped up and Jane began buttering. “Lots of jam or a little?” she asked.

Alexis ignored her. “Please, Daddy.”

Jane slapped huckleberry jam on both waffles, stuck two more in the toaster, then carried the plates to the table.

Alexis had lost interest in the second course of her breakfast. She kept weeping and pleading. Drew kept explaining that he couldn’t take her, that she wouldn’t be allowed back where Mommy was and she couldn’t stay by herself in the waiting room.